


If You Give An Empath a Puppy

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Puppies, looking after Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal gives Will a gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Give An Empath a Puppy

Will is right. He’s fading. He needs something now to stabilize him just enough. Keeping him from the edge, until it suits Hannibal to have him back there.

Hannibal gives it some thought. Something safe that that will bond Will further to him.

The answer comes to him during a session with a patient.

*  *  *

It takes Hannibal a day to arrange everything and then he drives to Will’s house. The snow is melting slowly, leaving dirty patches along the side of the road. Hannibal’s careful to avoid stepping in the slush as he walks to the front porch. The box in his arms shifts slightly as he carries it.

Will opens the door after Hannibal knocks three times. His hair is sticking up, the flannel shirt over his t-shirt needs a wash. He’s unshaven, hasn’t showered in the last two days.

“This is a nice surprise.” He holds the door and Hannibal enters.

“Good afternoon, Will.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee or something?” Will closes the door. While he’s glad it’s Hannibal, he doesn’t particularly want to see anyone right now.

“No, thank you. I brought you something.”

“Is it a straitjacket?” Will rubs at his arms. “Cause sometimes I feel that’s what I’m missing from my wardrobe.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Not this time.” His hand brushes Will’s arm reassuringly. “And I doubt you need it as much as you think. In any event, I believe my gift might help.” Now he’s certain of it. Will needs something, something that will subconsciously remind him of Hannibal whenever he looks at it.

“What is it?” Will’s interested enough to be curious.

Hannibal carries the box into Will’s kitchen. It’s an adequate room. He’s cooked here twice for Will now, while Will worked on a case, papers spread out all over the living room.

There’s a snuffling noise from the box and Will gives him a look.

“One of my patients had a litter of puppies a few weeks ago.” Hannibal opens the flaps of the box. “She found homes for all but one.” A tiny fluffy head blinks up at them. Hannibal smiles at the exact moment Will gives in to reach for it. The puppy sniffs at his hands.

“Naturally, she was quite distraught over sending it to be destroyed.” Hannibal watches as Will pauses at his words, “I told them I knew of a safe home for it.”

Will’s fingers scratch along the puppy’s ears. “What’s his name?”

“I thought I’d leave that up to you.” The puppy rubs against Will’s palm, licking him.

“I guess one more won’t make much of a difference.” Will says at last.

“Good. My patient will be relieved.”

*  *  *

The puppy is old enough to be weaned, but young enough that it’s still a handful. It staggers around the kitchen bumping into things and growling huskily at chair legs and feet. Will almost steps on it twice. He can’t leave it alone for more than a few minutes, if even that long, before it starts whining.

He’s not getting any work done around the house. Obviously he’ll have to give it back. For some reason Will thinks Hannibal will be disappointed by that. He decides to give it one more day before deciding.

 *  *  *

The first night the puppy cries softly, but insistently in its box until Will finally lets it into his bed. Then it quiets, snuggling happily up against his t-shirt. Will lies there in the dark listening to the puppy’s breathing. Slowly, unexpectedly, an even calmness settles over him.

Will dreams, but for the first time in months, it’s just pleasant muddled dreams. He wakes feeling surprisingly rested.

The puppy stays.

*  *  *

The other dogs give the puppy a wide berth at first, allowing it the freedom to follow around at Will's heels as he attempts to work. When he cooks dinner that night, the puppy chases dust bunnies under his fridge, growling at invisible rats.

Will feeds it from his plate because he can't resist the way it begs. 

*  *  *

At night Will grows accustomed to its tiny weight nestled up against him in bed. The puppy is a ball of warmth, cozy and affectionate.

He dreams once, a mangled corpse pushing itself up from the dirt, staring at him with sightless eyes. Will twists, kicking out in his sleep. There's a high yelp from the foot of the bed. Will sits up to see the puppy hiding under the sheets, eyeing him worriedly.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I’m sorry." He stretches out a hand. “It’s okay.”

The puppy bounds into his arms, licking his face eagerly. All sins are forgiven in the face of affection. Will cradles it in his arms and goes back to sleep.

 *  *  *

When Will shows up for his appointment on Thursday, the puppy is tucked inside his jacket.

“I see we’re not alone today.” Hannibal eyes the puppy’s head as it looks around his office with interest.

“I couldn’t leave him.” Will says apologetically.

“It’s perfectly all right.” Hannibal watches the puppy with a dubious expression as Will sets it on the carpet. It’s the first time an animal has ever been allowed in his office. He should have foreseen this. “Have you decided on a name?”

“Oscar.” Will snaps his fingers and the puppy trots over to him, rubbing against his leg. “He’s very obedient. For a puppy. Well, sometimes.”

“Good.” Hannibal takes his usual seat. “What made you choose Oscar?”

“It suited him. It means spear of the gods.” Will’s smile appears, there and gone. “Seemed useful.”

“That's one meaning for it.” Hannibal nods. He glances at the puppy who blinks up at him. Another meaning for the name, of course, is "friend of the deer."

The puppy explores the office while Will sits down, sniffing around curiously.

"I'll clean it up if," Will gestures vaguely.

"You'd better." Hannibal murmurs.

After a minute the puppy wanders back, whining at Will’s feet until he strokes it.

Will leans forward in his chair, fingers curled around the puppy's ear. It's already a habit, Hannibal can tell.

"You don't actually like animals all that much, do you?"

"Not particularly, no. They have their places."

"Is that why you don't truly mind being a carnivore?" Will glances down at the puppy. He misses the thoughtful look Hannibal gives him.

"What makes you say that?"

"The simple pleasure you take in setting a good table." Will shrugs. "There's no apology in it, like some meat eaters cling to."

"The animals I choose deserve it."

Will blinks at that, and Hannibal’s reminded, not for the first time, of how Will makes him think of a dog himself. The expression in his eyes now for example, curious and expectant. "How can you be so sure?"

"I told you, Will. I take great care what I put in my body."  Hannibal folds his hands in his lap.

"But what animal deserves to die exactly?” Will stands, the puppy rolling back at the sudden movement. “A rabid dog never asked to be diseased. Surely...”

"And yet it still deserves to be put down to preserve the lives of others." Hannibal sits back, waiting. "But that's not really the question you want to ask, is it, Will?"

“You feed my dogs when I need you to.” Will glances down at the puppy who bites at his shoelace. “You gave me him. I was just curious. Why?”

"I should think that was obvious.” Hannibal stands as well. “I did those things for you, Will. Animals matter to you, and you're my friend."

Will nods, eyes on the puppy sprawling between them, yawning widely. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a good friend?"

Hannibal hesitates. "I believe you are the first."

*  *  *

Two weeks later Will joins him for dinner. The puppy doesn’t accompany him this time.

“He’s finally getting used to me not being there.” Will tells Hannibal. “It’s probably a good thing because I don’t think Jack would have appreciated it if I brought him to a crime scene.”

Hannibal chuckles, leading the way into the kitchen. He’s just putting the finishing touches on dinner. Will moves around the kitchen. There’s no nervous tick to his body. He’s relaxed. It’s almost strange to see Will like this. Strange, but intriguing.

“You seem better.” Hannibal comments.

Will nods. “I think the puppy’s helping.”

“I’m glad.”

Will shifts. “I wanted to do something for you in return. I thought about taking you out to dinner, but realized that probably wasn’t something you’d enjoy very much.” There’s nowhere he can think of that suits Hannibal’s tastes.

Hannibal smiles. “Nevertheless, I appreciate the thought. But you don’t have to do anything in return, Will.”

“But I wanted to. So since dinner was out, I made you something.” Will glances around Hannibal’s kitchen. “It’s in my car. Let me go get it."

Hannibal waits, curious.

Will brings in something covered by a sheet. He pulls it off with a nervous flourish.

“I’m not as good with wood as engines, but here.”

“Will, it’s magnificent.”

Will’s gift is a beautifully built spice rack. Hannibal runs his fingertips over the smooth veins of the wood before inspecting the glass bottles.

“Where did you get these?” The rack is stocked with a variety of spices. Hannibal finds it hard to believe they were all available in Wolf Trap, but perhaps it's more sophisticated than he thought.

“Ordered them.” Will brushes the back of the rack. “You probably have them all.”

“Not at all.” Hannibal is truly touched. “This is very thoughtful.” He opens one and sniffs it appreciatively. 

The scent of caraway brings back a wave of nostalgia for long ago days. But now, now, he’s here with Will. Hannibal glances at the back of the rack and pauses. There are words engraved there in small neat lettering.

_To Hannibal - your friend, Will._

Hannibal touches them for a moment. “Thank you, Will.”

“My pleasure.” Will smiles.

“Shall we go into dinner?”


End file.
